


Of Warm Winter Nights

by shotgunsinlace



Series: Dog Days [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bestiality, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will Graham, Butt Plugs, Collars, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Other, Puppy Play, Rimming, Rough Sex, Submissive Hannibal, Top Hannibal, d/s dynamics, dominant will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/shotgunsinlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They speak in omitted confessions and half-truths, pulling strings to see just how far either of them is willing to go. The length, while short, holds fast, making their affair an immensely pleasurable and satisfying game of hide-and-seek, where both shed their clothes and fuck like beasts.</p><p>A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4561983">A Day in the Life</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Warm Winter Nights

**Author's Note:**

> I started this months ago, dropped it, and then picked it up again when several lovely tumblr users started discussing absolute filth regarding Will and his dogs. Inspiration struck, and I've already printed my express ticket to Hell so there's no need to yell at me for it. This is a followup fic but it can also be read as a standalone. This is also unbeta'd.
> 
> Note: Please heed the tags.

Contradictions and organized chaos are two of Hannibal’s favorite things, right alongside a finely crafted, decadent meal, and Will Graham. 

Every aspect of his life is meticulously constructed as to ensure the best possible outcome each and every time. Always best to stay one step ahead, but unchangeable variables often run the chance of becoming monotonous. Happiness comes with being able to find and maintain balance; controlled violence, beautiful savagery, so forth.

The fact that Will encompasses the concept so spectacularly is a thrill Hannibal is unable to curb. Anthropomorphized entropy in handcrafted glass capable of withstanding what nature mercilessly decides to throw his way. Free-spiraling and untamable, his often changing facets shroud him in ways that make Hannibal desperate to ruin and claim.

It’s animal. Base instinct pushes him to his knees, overpowering and overriding his need for control. Where once Hannibal felt unthreatened of surrendering in the bedroom, now he feels uneasy but willing. Such is the level of mastery held over him.

In the same voice Will reserves for his dogs, he says, “Come here, Hannibal.” He pats his knee where he sits by the fireplace, casting Hannibal an unimpressed look when he doesn’t immediately react to the softly spoken command.

The scene is everything but new by now. Words are still tentative, neither revealing their hand too much. They speak in omitted confessions and half-truths, pulling strings to see just how far either of them is willing to go. The length, while short, holds fast, making their affair an immensely pleasurable and satisfying game of hide-and-seek, where both shed their clothes and fuck like beasts.

Hanging up his coat by the door, Hannibal steps deeper into Will’s space with his hands neatly folded in front of him. It’s a submissive gesture Will answers with a smile. He casts a look around and other than the recliner Will takes up, the only available place to sit on is his bed. This can only mean one thing.

“May I undress first?”

Will picks up a tumbler of whiskey from the table next to him, eyes steady on Hannibal. “You may not.”

The dogs lay scattered in front of the space heater, some of them with ears perked at Hannibal’s presence. They know him well enough and are often friendly due to the treats he brings them on occasion. He knows they will swarm him the moment he makes himself accessible; which is exactly what Will is aiming for.

“Very well,” he says, mostly for the sake of his own thoughts rather than promising Will obedience.

Unbuttoning his jacket, Hannibal stands by Will’s legs and graciously sinks to his knees, before sitting down on the rug. Warm fingers are threading through his hair in an instant, combing the slicked bangs loose and massaging his scalp.

“That’s a good boy,” Will coos, lightly tracing a finger along the shell of his ear.

The initial twinge of indignity always lingers, sitting sour in the pit of his stomach that he’s been reduced to _this_. Granted, Will gives his dogs more love and attention than the average pet owner, so he figures it isn’t that much of a disgrace to be considered _owned_ by the man.

“Same word?” Will asks for good measure, gently scratching at the base of Hannibal’s head.

He nods, not that he’d ever dream of muttering a safeword when he hungers for whatever Will chooses to set upon him, but it puts him at ease during their impromptu scenes.

“Are we to just sit here?”

“I have reading to get done for Wednesday’s lecture,” he says, moving his hand to the column of Hannibal’s neck. “You get to sit there and warm my feet.”

He says so good-naturedly, the same way he always does. After the initial wave of aggressive passion had vanished, Will’s demeanor lightened to its usual blunt and gentle self. He’s taken up petting Hannibal whenever the opportunity presents itself, mostly after sessions in his office, before they retire to their respective homes. Hannibal would almost consider their arrangement sweet, if not for the peeled live wires that crackle beneath their shoes.

In the end, Hannibal does as he’s told. He sits on the floor, only shifting when a leg begins to protest the position or when a dog comes to nose at his lap. The only sounds that fill Will’s home are the muffled thudding of paws on the floor, the clink of ice in glass, and the turning pages of a book.

With the front door locked, Hannibal allows his head to rest on Will’s thigh as a hand absently toys with his hair. Their moments have become more calming than not, a small pause in their busy lives.

Hannibal lets his thoughts drift when Buster comes to rest halfway on his lap, Winston stretched out alongside his thigh. It’s comforting despite the distaste he feels at getting dog hair on his suit.

He thinks about the first time he and Will had sex here, a slow rut in front of the fireplace that left more rug burns than teeth marks. The whiskey had been pushed aside in exchange for vodka, and they had playfully tipped their own glasses against the other’s mouth. Hannibal had laid Will down and spilled his drink along the taut lines of his chest and stomach, lapped it up until the man beneath him was quivering with pleasure.

Will is beautiful regardless of the position he takes in bed, but having him spread out and so receptive to Hannibal’s attention is akin to a religious experience.

The night would have been perfect if one of Will’s larger dogs hadn’t wanted to join them. Blissfully drunk, Will laughed himself through a breathy orgasm courtesy of Hannibal’s mouth on his cock.

“I made you a gift,” Will suddenly announces, pulling Hannibal away from the pleasant recollection. “Something to match that atrocious thing you got me last week.”

Hannibal’s smile comes surprisingly easy, curiosity taking over the mellow feeling that has settled into his limbs. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Needed to get you back some way or another.”

“Are you wearing yours?”

Will takes a moment to answer, and Hannibal gets it before he voices it, judging solely by the way he shifts in the seat. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I assume the size is satisfactory.”

“A little small,” Will says, shamelessly. “With your ego, I half expected you’d order one with your exact dimensions.”

“It crossed my mind, but I’m a very selfish man.”

“Wouldn’t do for me to be too loose.”

“Precisely.” Hannibal noses at Will’s leg like one of his dogs would, wading through memories and fantasies of a prostrated Will.

“I keep wearing it to the most inappropriate places. Yesterday, I forgot to remove it,” he recounts, sounding not at all inconvenienced. “Half way through the lecture I leaned against my desk and just… it _pushed deeper_ inside.” Arousal begins to tighten in Hannibal’s gut. “And then Alana stopped by and I was mortified. She looked at me and it was almost like she knew.”

“Knew what, Will?” he says, feeling particularly giddy at the thought of others knowing of their encounters. The hand in his hair tightens.

“That we’re fucking.” It’s a casual statement, not a hint of regret or embarrassment. “That you bought a goddamned butt plug and that I was thinking about your fingers scissoring me open while trying to have a casual conversation with her.”

Hannibal’s smile is in no danger of falling away any time soon. “What did you make for me?”

Will looks down at him, considering. “Treats are only when you’ve earned them, Hannibal.”

“I’ve warmed your feet.”

His hair is tugged in reprimand, hard enough to sting his scalp. While their banters are often welcomed, under Will’s hand, it’s best to keep in line.

The book is put aside and Hannibal watches Will reach down to pop open the button of his pants and drag down the zipper. He does so at leisure, not a hint of desperate need present. This only means that the afternoon will be long, and that Hannibal’s knees will certainly suffer the consequences of his quip.

A brief fumble and Will exposes his limp cock, giving it a thoughtless stroke between loose fingers before allowing it to hang over his fly. He adjusts himself on the recliner by sinking lower, knees knocked apart. “Now you get to make me hard.”

Hannibal wets his lips, uncertain of why Will would deem this as punishment when he understands fully how much he enjoys having the man in his mouth. Regardless, he moves onto his knees and rests between Will’s legs, hands behind his back as he’s usually told to do.

Order given, Hannibal obeys. He flattens his tongue against the base of Will’s cock and slowly drags it upward, an awkward feat considering the flaccid state. He laps at the head, tasting salt and sweat, and deriving his thrill before wrapping his lips around it.

A sharp tug forces him back, Will tutting him for crossing a line that hadn’t been explicitly set. “Last time I checked, that’s not how dogs give head.” He says so with an exquisitely attractive bloom across his cheeks.

Hannibal doesn’t conceal the questioning look he casts in the direction of the dogs who’ve scampered off, uncaring of what is being done to their owner. Incapable of caring about taboos, Hannibal allows the inquiry to form but doesn’t speak it aloud. Not yet. Not when Will is staring down at him, daring him to ask.

Catching on to Will’s intention, Hannibal abandons technique and finesse in the hopes of getting Will off. He sets aside his usual fastidiousness in favor of animal behavior, licking at Will’s cock like a dog would a slab of meat. No rhythm or pattern, he laps and licks what he can reach. Shaft, balls, head, all engorging and swelling, become heavy with arousal.

“Slow down a bit,” Will says, lips perpetually parted by quickened breaths. “I want you to get me going, not make me cum. Not yet.”

Hannibal eases back but doesn’t pull away, opting instead to nuzzle the fabric that still frames his groin. It’s degrading, but he’s enjoying himself far too much to care. This type of experience is yet another novelty for him to bask in.

When Will takes himself in hand, he knows what to expect. Opening his mouth, Hannibal exposes his tongue for whatever use Will might have in mind. This part rarely differs in their encounters, Will preferring to guide the pace and intensity in which he fucks Hannibal’s mouth.

Most of it is teasing, sliding the underside of his cock along his tongue until the head brushes his top lip, and then Will is pulling away. Over and over, a slow and wet rub that doesn’t remain in the area of Hannibal’s mouth for long. He closes his eyes when the stiff cock is patted against his cheek, dragged across his face as Will stakes his claim with spit and slick. Hannibal adores it.

Then a hand is fisting the hair at the back of his head and pushing down, forcing Hannibal’s mouth and throat open as Will fucks his face, torn between bucking into his mouth and pressing down on the plug keeping him open.

Will uses him quick and dirty, both hands now on his hair and head undoubtedly thrown back against the headrest, crying out his pleasure. And, oh, the sounds his precious boy makes are enough to grant Hannibal his own release, but not this time. Now, he allows Will to take what he wants without mercy until he reaches completion, shooting down Hannibal’s throat with a surprisingly quiet shudder.

He drinks him. Hannibal quenches his thirst by taking Will into his belly the only way he can at the moment, by swallowing his seed and humming at the delightful taste of him.

The slick sound of Will’s cock slipping from Hannibal’s lips is loud and crude, making Will laugh around his quick breaths. He always laughs when sated.

“That was good,” he says around a grin, absently petting the top of Hannibal’s head as he comes down from his high. “That was really fucking good.”

Mouth closed, Hannibal flexes his jaw to ease the dull ache from the abuse. The salty taste on his tongue lingers as he reclines against Will’s thigh again, eyes steady on the still hard cock. He breathes in deep, filling his lungs with the sweet and pungent scent of Will’s release.

The smell incites Hannibal’s erection to pulse in his pants, straining against the zipper, but he understands that he won’t be done for a long while. With the initial edge of Will’s arousal gone comes a period that only ensures sweet torment on Hannibal’s body.

“Take off your clothes,” Will says, and the same hand that clenched at Hannibal’s hair now scrubs along his own face, as if he could somehow rub away a bad thought. “Kneel beside the bed and don’t move.” Hannibal watches him get up on steady feet and hurry into the kitchen. 

Something troubles Will, more so than usual, and Hannibal briefly considers disobedience before promptly standing up to undress.

Suit neatly folded over the couch, shoes by the door, Hannibal kneels on the rug Will has set out especially for him. It is round, a powder blue color, and the fibers are soft enough to prevent the inevitable burn on his knees. The rug is certainly a luxury.

As expected, three of Will’s dogs pad up to him, and he’s about to push them away when a sharp _tiss_ stops the motion. 

“We’ve discussed this before, Hannibal. Hands behind your back.” Will stands beside the recliner, another tumbler of whiskey in hand, and a large, flat, square box on the other. He’s dressed down to his boxers and one of the worn shirts he usually sleeps in.

Hannibal looks at the dogs that insistently sniff him, nosing along feet and legs, and hesitates. He turns the careful look to Will, wondering how far he will let the dogs go before calling them back. The safeword briefly graces his thoughts but gets pushed aside. Hannibal isn’t one to shy away from something new on the grounds of society’s definition of morals.

Straightening up on his knees, he crosses his wrists behind his back and defiantly meets Will’s gaze.

“They’re good dogs,” Will says, his bare feet silent as he crosses the living room to where Hannibal kneels. He places the box on the bed, then reaches down to scratch behind Winston’s ear. “A lot easier than humans, and not that different.” At a broad lick against his hand, Will laughs. “They like you.”

Hannibal is perfectly aware of the fact, especially when Buster bumps his head against his forearm, asking for attention. Another of the dogs, who he fails putting a name to, is a lot more adventurous. He sniffs up Hannibal’s thigh, and it isn’t long until a cold and wet nose is inspecting his groin.

“But,” Will continues, “if you really think about it, it’s pretty damn easy to get anyone to like you with a bit of positive reinforcement.” He doesn’t call the dogs away, allowing another one to close in on Hannibal and investigate. “You _did_ feed them some pretty good sausages while I was away.”

Fingers twitching at his back, Hannibal keeps himself from looking away. He readily dissects Will’s bravado, picking through every encounter they’ve shared. It’s a textbook model of the consequences of social exclusion, but Will isn’t one to abide by common examples. He is his own sort of creature.

“You tend to boast at how well trained they are,” he says, showing no outward reaction when a dog at his back sniffs lower than it should. “What sort of commands have you taught them to obey?”

“Oh, all kinds.” Will knocks back what remains of his drink, and sets the glass down on the bedside table. “I could tell you, if you really want to know.”

“Would you be comfortable telling me?”

“You once said there were benefits about discussing this sort of thing.” Moving closer towards the foot of the bed, Will clicks his tongue and immediately the dogs back away. “You mentioned fantasies, debauchery, carnality.”

“I did, yes.”

Will pauses, thoughtfully tapping a finger against the box. He removes the lid, but Hannibal doesn’t turn to see what is inside. “I trust you’ve accurately intuited what I’m alluding to.”

He has, in fact, done exactly that. Will’s seclusion, as well as his aversion to human interaction, have served as a base profile that broadens the more Hannibal watches him in his lair. Will is the pack’s alpha, unleashing unwavering authority over his strays. He cares for them, sees that _all_ of their needs are met.

“Do all of them partake?” Hannibal asks, sharp but meaning no reprimand.

Will laughs dryly, taking no offense at the inquiry. “Not all of them, no.” He moves to stand behind Hannibal, a position that makes his muscles strain with the effort to keep from looking. “Only the ones who are good at taking orders.”

“The big one?” The question is met with a strip of warm leather pressing around the column of his neck.

“He can take orders perfectly fine.” That last word is accented with a click. Then, a finger is slipped between the collar and his skin to test the slack. Satisfied, Will drops a kiss to the top of Hannibal’s head. “It looks really nice on you.”

The weight of the collar feels heavier than it is, its thickness prominent. Not meant for a dog, Hannibal decides, and he is still not entirely sure what to make of this. Its presence is surprisingly pleasing, not at all restraining, and strangely grounding.

Their first encounter had been preluded by unspoken threats of exposure, with Will weaving arguments that led them to bed. Currently, what Will presents to him is not a challenge, neither is it degradation. What is being so carefully gifted here is protection.

“How’s that feel?” Will asks, and the waver in his voice betrays his nerves.

Hannibal tilts his head left and right, to and fro, then stretches his neck. The smooth finish digs into flesh, a barely noticeable bite that sends a very powerful jolt of pleasure to his cock. “I’m undecided.” He does enjoy the sensation of it, but he’s less than pleased with whatever else Will might have in store for the evening.

“Deerskin.” Will thumbs the leather, standing close enough to radiate heat. Hannibal takes the opportunity to boldly lean back, head against the swell of his underwear. “Made to your measurements by estimating how well I’m able to wrap my hands around your neck.” 

Damn this exquisite man and the glow he sets to Hannibal’s gut. “Safe to assume there is a leash to match,” he says. There’s another click before Will steps back and comes to stand in front of him, and Hannibal feels a genuine smile tug at his mouth when he sees the thin length of leather loosely wrapped around Will’s fist. “Lovely.”

“You keep causing me trouble,” Will says around a grin, giving the leash a tug. “So I thought I’d take some disciplinary measures.” Hannibal closes his eyes and revels, each jerk sending jolts of wanton need skittering under his skin. A pinch to his nipple startles his eyes open again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to give you an order, and all you have to do is obey.” The hand not holding the leash caresses Hannibal’s chest, fingers threading through the graying patch of hair. The same nipple is rubbed between thumb and forefinger until it pebbles under the touch, the sensation sending a shiver down Hannibal’s spine. “You don’t get to cum until I give you explicit permission to do so. Easy enough, yeah?”

Hannibal wets his lips and nods, keeping still. “Very much.” Restraint and self-discipline are two traits he greatly possesses, and Will isn’t above clenching the root of his penis to keep him from climaxing too soon.

“Get up.”

He does so as soon as Will releases the leash, watching him kick off his boxers, carelessly tossing them aside. His legs are as appealing as usual, their thick and shapely figure speaking of virility. His cock nudges upward, not yet fully erect, but Hannibal has no doubts that by the time Will decides to penetrate him, he will be hard to the point of it being uncomfortable.

The thought quickly dies away when Will climbs onto the bed, still wearing his shirt, and kneels. He lowers himself until his shoulders meet the pillow beneath the side of his face, back bowed in a beautiful arch, bare ass presented. “You get to fuck me just like my boys do, but no knotting until I tell you I’m ready to take it.”

Will’s words have the desired effect, awakening animal hunger so powerful Hannibal has half a mind to abandon the scene and just _bite, rut, and claim_. The eagerness to bend for Will is swapped with the need to take, even when the other still holds all control. It’s an intoxicating dynamic, thrilling and utterly debauched.

Taking hold of the leash - _his_ leash, which Will took the time and patience to craft with his own hands - Hannibal gets on the bed. 

He sits on his calves behind Will, taking in the attractive pink of his rear, the slope and curve of his back. Most importantly, Hannibal smiles at the flat end of the blue, silicone plug that rests innocently flush against his hole. The smile becomes a satisfied grin when Will reaches back to part his cheeks and grant him an unobstructed view.

The toy had been a risky investment, given the relatively fresh status of their arrangement, and Will’s deep-rooted dislike of gifts. It was during a session that Hannibal had noticed Will intentionally sitting over the corner of his desk that had made up his mind. For a man who has identified as heterosexual all his life, Hannibal finds it refreshing that Will has held no shame in accepting the enjoyment he derives off anal play.

“No hands,” Will reminds, shifting his hips and deepening the curve of his back, intention perfectly clear. “Besides that, feel free to do what you want.”

The roughness of his voice drives Hannibal forward, showing to hesitation when he presses a kiss to the plug’s stopper, nudging it deeper. Will hums his approval, still spreading himself for Hannibal’s exploration.

Ever so carefully, Hannibal bites the stopper’s edge and pulls it far enough for the bulbous plug to stretch the muscle, before letting it go and watching it be sucked in again. Will’s body is greedy, twitching and filling with every breath Hannibal blows against his skin, every bite, and every slow drag of his tongue.

Breathy gasps become a steady string of groans when Hannibal buries his face between Will’s cheek, inhaling the heady scent of musk and sweat. He alternates between biting the fleshy mounds of skin and using his chin to push the plug deeper, stimulating Will’s prostrate while milking pretty little sounds from the man’s mouth.

“You didn’t bring the lubricant with you,” Hannibal observes, briefly casting a look around the bed and bedside tables.

“No need for it. Already slicked.”

“It won’t be enough.”

“Animals don’t need lube.”

“Animals self-lubricate. A convenient evolutionary trait nature has not deemed us worthy of outside of reproductive purposes.”

“ _Hannibal,_ ” Will chastises, feigning distaste at his quips. “You’re going to remove the plug, and you’re going to fuck me, raw. Do you understand?”

He does understand, which is why he wraps his teeth around the plug’s stem and yanks it out without warning, the sound of wet suction as Will’s body relinquishes its hold absurdly filthy. Sweeter yet is the surprised gasp that instantaneously gives way to a shaky moan, Will’s thighs trembling from the pleasure.

No time wasted, Hannibal drops the toy and tips forward again, this time to drag the tip of his tongue around the loose muscle. He delivers tiny scooping motions, finding lubricant and traces of Will’s own seed, filling Hannibal’s mind with appealing thoughts.

He pushes in his tongue and stiffens it, earning himself a volley of broken moans and sharply jerking hips. Hannibal pauses when he recalls Will’s words from earlier, how he had requested to be licked, and so Hannibal emulates the wide-tongued lapping of a beast.

He lavishes attention to Will’s sac, perineum, and cheeks. He nibbles, light and playful, like a dog excited for a treat, across thighs that tremble from exertion but refuse to give. Hannibal licks and licks, gathering the line of decadent flavors Will has to offer, from natural musk to spicy fever.

A tug to his collar has Hannibal stiffening, the oddly airy sensation that had set over his mind abruptly cut short. He glances downward, Will having taken up the end of the leash again. “Fuck me,” he instructs over his shoulder.

Knees spreading on the bed, stretching the soft cotton of the covers, Will presents.

Hannibal is overcome with the urge to cover the rolling expanse of the unblemished skin of his back with kisses, suck bruises along his hips, leave wicked bite marks on the knob of his shoulders as soon as he’s pushed the shirt far enough. Hannibal craves to stake his claim as Will has done with him so many times over the past several months. But there will be time for that later. As it is, Will has requested to be taken this way, and so, Hannibal will abide.

Keeping his hands in mind, Hannibal uses them only to hold himself up, planting them on either side of Will as he tries, awkwardly, to mount him. It’s a difficult task given that the plug is not wide enough to stretch him to the point where he can take Hannibal with ease. There isn’t enough lubricant, and Hannibal knows it’s going to hurt.

Will, so fantastically and impossibly attuned to Hannibal, yanks the leash in warning. “Stop thinking,” he says, voice tight with building anticipation and arousal. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“What is it about this that you enjoy?” Hannibal rubs himself along the warm crease of Will’s cheeks, whispering the question into his ear. “Take no offence. I’m merely curious.”

Will pushes back against him, sucking and biting his bottom lip before answering. “It just feels good. No questions, no empathizing, just… fucking.” They take a moment to simply grind against each other, bodies blissfully hot. “When you’re stuffed full and it feels like you can’t possibly take anymore, but then it turns out you _can_. It hurts, at first, but then you stretch just enough…” Will smiles against the pillow.

“No expectations,” Hannibal says, watching Will’s face with rapt attention. “No possible way to be let down.”

“Not just that.” Will shuffles against the pillow, his curls fanning out like a halo. “It’s about mutual consumption. I can be working on a boat motor and one of them trods up to me, unsheathed, panting, so I put my mouth to good use. Some time down the line, I’m in bed and they climb in with me. All I have to do is turn over and they take it from there. We take care of each other.”

“And when you wake up, they’re still there.”

Will nods. “I was mortified that first time, that I had let one of them go that far. But then I took a knot.”

Hannibal can picture it perfectly, Will bent just like this, his hole spread wide by a veiny knot. He can almost smell the acrid scent of semen, hear the broken moans and wild sobs as Will pushes his body to its limits, like he often does.

“At first, it felt so strange I started to panic,” Will sighs out over a laugh. “Getting fucked and then suddenly the dick inside you starts to swell.” He closes his eyes then, lost to a pleasant memory. “It gets so impossibly big, Hannibal, stretching so fucking good and it just _pulses_ and it _gushes_ and suddenly you’re impossibly full of cum.”

Hannibal ruts hard enough to push Will further up the bed, nearly slamming his head into the headboard. It gets a delighted laugh out of the man under him, spilling filth that shouldn’t cause Hannibal’s cock to twitch with want.

“One day,” Will continues, reaching back again to spread his ass for Hannibal, “I’m going to bend you over and let one of my boys do the same to you.” He stops only to moan when Hannibal momentarily manages to snag the head of his cock against the rim of his hole, but too much force at a wrong angle doesn’t allow him to penetrate. “Christ, I’m going to let them all fuck you until you’re bred. And then I’m going to do it, stuff you full of my cock and cum until I’m limp.”

A growl perches itself in Hannibal’s chest, all higher functions retiring for the time being. Right now, he’s desperate to be inside of Will, and hear his words give way to inhuman cries of pleasure. Hannibal needs to mate him with the same intensity with which he needs to breathe.

He tries again and again, blindly, without the use of his hands, until, finally, his cock catches against Will’s hole. Hannibal wastes no time pushing in, his spit easing the entry only so much, but Will positively sings for him and the burning ache he must be experiencing.

It’s hot, unnaturally so, and tight. Hannibal finds himself panting against Will’s shirt, pulling out and thrusting back in in hopes to bottom out faster, but it’s a near impossible task. The difficulty does not hinder Will, writhing underneath Hannibal and exhaling shaky laughs whenever his body is shaken by a particularly hard thrust.

“That’s a good boy,” he pants, letting go of himself and clutching the pillow under his head, bringing his knees closer together and lifting his ass enough to get Hannibal deeper. “God, you’re so big, fucking me nice and good.”

Hannibal hangs his head, unable to hold back each grunt that claws out of his throat the harder he fucks, the deeper he gets, shredding his way inside of Will in every possible way. It is ethereal and sublime, how something so carnal can unite them in such a way.

Will throws his head back when Hannibal pushes in at a particular angle, letting go of a loud and broken howl that echoes throughout the house around them.

He’s beautiful this way, lost to his pleasure and nothing but wanton abandon. With eyes clenched shut and moisture beading at their corners, Hannibal can orgasm just like this, barely having fucked into the silky heat at all.

It is then, with a twitch of dread, that Hannibal realizes why Will chose this particular act to discipline him.

His pace must stutter, because Will turns his head to grin at him with smug satisfaction. “No - _ah!_ \- coming until I…,” a moan, breathless and pained, “fuck, until I tell you to.”

“ _Will._ ” Hannibal wets his lips, biting the bottom one in concentration.

“No slowing down,” he gasps out, working back and splitting himself open against Hannibal’s cock. The display brings Hannibal dangerously close to the edge. “I’ll reward you when you fuck me harder, faster.”

Hannibal’s arms waver, elbows threatening to buckle under his weight as they both rock against each other, Will shifting like a sensuous animal between Hannibal’s body and the bed. He is but a wild and untamed creature, bending only for his pack, for _Hannibal_ , and the thought does nothing to stave off the ever-building wave of orgasm.

“Will, I--”

“I said _no_ , Hannibal.”

Hannibal tries to bite his neck but only finds the sweat soaked fabric of Will’s shirt. His hips move on instinct, as involuntary as breathing, needing to push Will over in hopes that he will allow Hannibal to do so as well.

Fucking gives way to frenzy, a lewd and loud coupling that fills the air with the stench of sex. The constant slap of skin against skin, Will’s voice growing in volume as he spews nonsense that fuels the fire is overwhelming Hannibal’s senses.

His leash is jerked and he nearly falls on top of Will, but instead Hannibal receives a bite to the chin. “Be good and make daddy cum,” he rasps. “Then you can do it, too.”

Hannibal takes the opportunity to steal an awkwardly angled kiss before Will gets back into breeding position, slamming back onto Hannibal’s cock.

He pushes harder, growling against Will’s hair when he bottoms out and grinds against his plush ass, needing to go deeper, to reach Will’s nonexistent womb and fill him up. It’s too much, far too much, and Hannibal has no hopes in holding for long in this state.

A tiny miracle arrives in the shape of a dark spot out of the corner of his eye, sparking an idea that might get him punished more severely than this, but Hannibal is always one to delight in risks.

Snaking his arms between Will and the mattress, he grabs hold of his shoulders and pulls him up until Hannibal is once more sitting on his calves, Will on his lap. Gravity takes over, making Will sink down onto his cock, and his head tips back to rest against Hannibal’s shoulder, mouth wide open in a soundless cry.

The position drives Will to all-out bounce on Hannibal’s lap, laughs punching through moans as he reaches back to fist Hannibal’s hair. “Daddy’s almost there,” he says, breathily, nearly snarling when Hannibal fucks into him. “You’ve been such a good boy, Hannibal. So fucking good for me.”

The _boy_ sits like liquid gold at the bottom of Hannibal’s gut, coiling at the base of his cock and making his balls grow heavy. He’s ready, and so is Will, and all he needs it a gentle nudge.

Hannibal’s whistle is short and sharp, and quickly the bed dips when met with added weight. He watches Will’s brow crease in mild confusion, then ease into a smile when he spots one of the dogs sniffing the spot he’d been lying on.

The mutt licks the wet patch Will’s cock had leaked on, and Will’s hand in his hair clenches tighter when he braces himself for what he knows is coming.

Hannibal watches, hands now on Will’s hips to drive him down onto his cock while fucking up, as the dog pads closer and quickly begins lapping at the precum beading at Will’s tip.

Torn about where to focus his attention on, Hannibal moans when Will squeezes down on his cock. He watches the pinched expression on his face melt into ecstasy, mouth wide open in a silent scream that eventually gives way to a moan loud enough to be felt as vibrations against Hannibal’s ribcage. There are tears on his cheeks, and Hannibal only looks away quick enough to see the thick ropes of ejaculate spurting from his cock, the dog doing a very good job at licking it all up.

Hannibal is given no time to assess the acute jealousy he feels when Will whispers against his ear, voice hoarse. “Give me your knot, Hannibal.”

There are greater pleasures than sex, Hannibal knows, but at that very moment, he understands that nothing will ever compare to this sweet agony. He cums so hard he’s unable to keep quiet, moaning so high he has trouble assimilating the fact that the sound has come from his own mouth. Not that he cares. Will is still bouncing on him, milking him, filling his body with Hannibal’s essence, and it is enough. It is perfection, and Will Graham is art elevated to its grandest form.

The dog still laps up the mess as Hannibal releases a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against the soft fabric of Will’s shirt. His body is wracked with sporadic tremors, and he clutches Will closer, now that he’s stilled over him as well.

They both breathe, climbing down from the excruciating high they dragged each other to.

Will clicks his tongue and mumbles a “Good job, Orwell,” as he guides the dog back off the bed. He collapses against his chest then, a hand coming up to gently scratch behind Hannibal’s ear. He smiles, a sated and beautiful thing, before turning his head and capturing his mouth in a kiss that is tender compared to the savage rut. “You should get the plug,” Will whispers against his mouth. “Keep your cum inside me for a while longer.”

Hannibal hums his agreement but doesn’t move, content to drag his teeth against the sensitive skin of Will’s throat. He mildly entertains the thought of biting, sinking in until flesh and tendons gather behind his incisors and he rips them clean. He can almost taste Will’s coppery blood where it rushes just beneath the surface, fantasizes about it spilling hot over his tongue, chin, and neck.

“I’m afraid I can’t move,” he says instead, inhaling the intoxicating bouquet that is his Will. “My knot is yet to deflate.”

A fluttering of muscles around Hannibal’s cock accompanies Will’s helpless whimper, his crudeness giving way along with the scene. His eyes grow soft, cheeks a handsome pink, and not for the first time, Hannibal finds himself questioning the circumstance that have brought such a wonderful man into his life.

“My knees hurt,” Will says, trying a failing to suck a bruise against his cheekbone.

Hannibal takes his cue and carefully maneuvers them until they’re lying on their sides on top of the rumpled covers, his body wrapped around Will’s in an intimate cocoon. He allows his hands to roam, caressing the dips and curves of Will’s body, slipping under the shirt to lightly skim over an erect nipple.

“Force of habit,” Will explains after a long moment. “The shirt, I mean.”

“To prevent scratches.”

“Yeah. I thought about putting socks on their paws, but some of them take more interest in chewing at them rather than anything else.”

Hannibal watches the dogs curled in front of the space heater, and presses a kiss atop Will’s head. “Do you bathe them?”

“Before rumping? No.” He snorts. “It’s never really premeditated. More of a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

“Then I’ve one request.” Hannibal closes his eyes then, searching for reasons that merit a change of mind, but finds none. “Please see to it that I don’t end smelling of dog too much, after you’ve given me to them.”

There’s a brief pause before Will half turns around to face him, careful to not dislodge him. His brow is furrowed, but it soon eases into a look of amusement. “My tongue gets loose during sex,” he says with a soft laugh. “I don’t really intend to let my dogs gangbang you.”

Hannibal smiles at him, almost cheeky. “Such a shame.”

“Unless, you know, you’re into that.” At Hannibal’s raised eyebrows, Will shakes his head. “Thank you,” he says, shyly. “For all of this. But you don’t have to soil yourself with my weirdness.”

“This is something you have decided to share with me, Will. I am honored that you trust me enough to do so.” Hannibal kisses him, properly, softly asking for permission with his tongue. It is instantly granted. “I can assure you,” he says, emerging for breath, “that I am just as weird.”

Will nibbles on his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. “We’re on two very different sides of the weird spectrum, however.”

“All I can do is hope that we will find each other within it, at some point in the future.”

One more kiss and Will rests his head back on the pillow, arching his back closer to Hannibal’s chest. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Neither do you have to. It is simply a wish, one I could do without so long as you continue to grace me with your company. You are not, and will never be, obligated to sit at my table, Will.”

“We still need to talk about this,” Will says, and Hannibal can feel rather than hear him heave out a sigh. “We keep putting it off, and it’s getting harder to lie whenever Jack drags me out to a scene.” Another short silence before he continues. “It’ll help if I know what it is I’m lying for.”

Hannibal takes Will’s hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles with nothing short of adoration. That this stunning man continues to lie for him settles sweet on his tongue. “Perhaps we can discuss this over dinner,” he says, letting go of the hand in favor of laying warm kisses over the coarse hair of Will’s cheek.

Will nods, the sluggish movement betraying how close sleep lurks. “Plug me if I fall asleep. You can take off the leash, but keep the collar.”

“Of course, Will,” he says, caressing his hand down Will’s arm, carefully cataloging everything he’s learned during the evening. 

There are plenty of matters that need to be adjusted, but all of those can wait until Will sinks deeper into his well of comfort and madness. For now, Hannibal is satisfied, devouring him in other ways that leave him just as full and content.

He saves the term ‘daddy’ for an occasion that requires Will to be promptly and easily persuaded.


End file.
